Madwoman With a Box
by Dndchk
Summary: The Doctor regenerates into a woman. How does she react, and what will her companion think?
1. Chapter 1

What's this? A new story? *gasp* It's been ages, I know! Enjoy, guys.

Disclaimer: _Doctor Who_ belongs to the BBC. Abigail belongs to me.

* * *

The Doctor and Abigail raced through the streets of Paris, dodging people left and right. Behind them came the ominous ticking noise they'd grown to dread.

"This is the _last_ time!" Abigail yelled, leaping over a water-filled ditch. "This is the _last_ time we go to medieval France and get attacked by clockwork robots!"

"This isn't medieval France, this is 1723! The medieval period ended in the fifteenth century!" the Doctor yelled back. He nearly plowed into a carriage, only barely sidestepping the vehicle in time. "You're a history student, you should _know_ that!"

" _Ancient_ history!" Abigail yelled back.

"What's the point in studying only a little bit of history when you can study all of it?" If he hadn't been running for his life, the Doctor would have given a derisive snort. "So narrow-minded, you are—"

Abigail nearly tripped over a loose cobble at his words. "OI!" she yelled after regaining her balance.

This time, the Doctor did give a derisive snort. "Don't get all huffy with me Abigail Ainsley, you can't get angry at the truth—" He made to dodge the wigged, masked man who stepped out of a side alley in front of him, when the 'man' turned, driving the spinning blade on the end of his hand into the Doctor's side. The Doctor yelled and fell to the ground, clutching at the wound in his side. The robot—for clockwork robot it was—raised its arm to deliver the killing blow.

"Doctor!" Abigail yelled. She ran at the robot, slamming it into the ground. It whirred furiously as it tried to get back up. Abigail hurried to the Doctor and helped him stand. "Doctor, are you okay—?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, just get to the TARDIS," the Doctor snapped, putting a hand over the wound. He pushed Abigail ahead of him, feeling blood leaking from between his fingers. It didn't seem serious, but it would definitely require a trip to the TARDIS' medical bay when they got back. Yes. He nodded to himself and stumbled after Abigail, then regained his footing and ran after her, grabbing her hand with his free one when he caught up. Together, they ran through the city, the ticking behind them growing fainter and fainter, even as more blood trickled down the Doctor's side. It was extremely difficult to breathe. Damn, did the blade hit one of his pulmonary tubes? It wasn't impossible, certainly, but that was definitely not good if that was the case. He could feel himself beginning to weaken.

He stumbled again, and Abigail put an arm around him. "Are you _sure_ you're okay?" she asked, helping him down the street. Behind them, the ticking was starting to get louder.

"Never mind that," the Doctor rasped. "We just need to get to the TARDIS, it's not far now—just one more street—"

The Doctor's fingers tingled, and his hearts jumped. No, not now, not when they were so close. He'd just have to hold it off until then.

"Hold what off?" Abigail asked, panting slightly under his weight. The Doctor realized, a little belatedly, that he must have spoken aloud.

"Never mind, just hurry it up. I need—" He broke off, hissing through his teeth as a sudden flash of pain shot through him. It was starting already?

"Doctor, look, just stay with me, the TARDIS is right here—" Abigail was almost carrying him at this point; not an easy task for her. She propped him against the TARDIS and fumbled with her key to get the door open before half-dragging the Doctor inside. He swatted at her hands and forced himself upright, took two steps toward the controls, and fell face-first onto the floor. _Ow_.

Abigail locked the door behind them and knelt beside the Doctor, her eyes going huge when she saw the bloody mess that was his side. "You call that _nothing?_ " she cried, pulling off her shawl and pressing it to his wound. "We've gotta get you to the medical bay, that doesn't look good!"

The Doctor rolled his head to the side to look at her. "CPR," he mumbled. "Worked last time."

Abigail gave him a bewildered look. "CP—CPR? For blood loss? Are you mad, or is that the exsanguination getting to you—?"

The Doctor smiled faintly. "Such big words from a little girl," he said, reaching up a shaking hand to touch her face. "Don't ever change, Abigail Ainsley—AUGH!" He shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut when another spike of pain hit him. When he opened them again, he could see his hands were starting to glow.

"Er, Doctor?" Abigail seemed to have noticed as well, because she was eyeing him warily. "You're, er, you're glowing."

"Yes, I am." The Doctor closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, bracing himself for the pain of regeneration. "Stand back, I don't want you getting hurt."

"Getting—? Doctor, what's—?"

"DO IT!" he roared. Abigail leapt to her feet and scurried to stand on the far side of the control room, where she watched him anxiously.

The Doctor took a deep, shuddering breath as the heat began to spread like wildfire. _I had a good run,_ he thought. _Saved some people, made some friends. Lost others. But…_ He smiled. _I wouldn't change a thing._

His back arched and he exploded in a golden light. He screamed as every molecule, every atom in his body warped, rearranged, changed.

When it was over, he lay on the ground, gasping. "Well!" he said, turning his head to look at Abigail. "That must've been one of my better ones! Blimey, my voice is high! Abigail!"

The girl's eyes looked about ready to fall out of her head. "D-Doctor?" she stammered.

"Yes, it's me. I have a very. Important. Question." The Doctor gave Abigail a stern look. "Am. I. Ginger?"

Abigail's mouth opened and closed several times before she nodded. "Yes," she said faintly.

The Doctor sat up with a whoop. "YES!" he yelled, punching the air. A lock of hair fell into his face and he held it out for inspection. "Ohh, I'm ginger at last, that's brilliant, absolutely spec-TAC-ular! Blimey, my hair's _really long!_ Blimey, I say blimey a lot! Or is that just the post-regeneration effects? AM I TALKING TOO LOUD?" he suddenly yelled. Abigail nearly jumped a foot in the air.

"Just—just a bit." Abigail took several hesitant steps forward. "Doctor, is it really you? You've… changed—"

"Yes, it's called re-gen-er-aaaaaaay-tion," the Doctor said, hauling himself upright using one of the rails around the central area. "Balance is a bit off, let's see, everything here? Arms, legs, fingers, yes, ten, good—"

"You've… changed… into a _woman_." Abigail grabbed her hair. "How is this possible?!"

The Doctor looked down. Slowly, she let go of the railing to poke at one of her breasts. "Huh. That's new."

"Why are you a woman?!"

"No, no, nonononono, that's not the real question. The _real_ question," the Doctor continued, patting herself down, "is why _wouldn't_ I be a woman? Hmm?"

"I… don't… know?" Abigail closed the rest of the distance between them. "So, this, this regeneration thing, does it happen a lot?"

The Doctor tried to nod and shake her head at the same time and ended up just causing her head to flop around a bit. "Only if I'm about to die. NOT fun!" she declared, pointing a finger in the air. She stumbled; Abigail barely caught her before she hit the floor. "Oof, I feel like I'm about to—" The Doctor's face contorted before she let out a whooshing breath. A mist of golden artron energy escaped her mouth. "There we go," she mumbled. "Abby, be a dear and help me to bed, would you? I think I need to…" Her eyes were already closing. "...sssleeep." Her words were followed by a soft snore.

Abigail stared down at the woman—the _Doctor_ —on the floor. She'd seen suns go supernova, she'd seen Daleks, she'd seen a clone of herself before, so why should this particular new development be any stranger? Still, she thought, grabbing the Doctor under the arms and dragging her to her room, she certainly had no idea how to react to _this._

After she laid a towel on the Doctor's bed, she hauled the Doctor into place, positioning her so her bloody clothes weren't on the sheets. The Doctor mumbled something in her sleep, but didn't stir. Abigail brushed a strand of hair out of the Doctor's face and left, shutting the door behind her. She leaned against it, breathing hard.

After a moment, she dragged a hand down her face. "I need a drink," she mumbled, and headed for the kitchen.

* * *

A/N: Yes, my attempt at writing a 'Doctor regenerates into a woman' thing. I'll just go ahead and answer some questions now:

1) I deliberately made it ambiguous as to which Doctor precedes the new one, since it's always going to be subject to change. Obviously, this is just speculation as to how the Doctor and his (her) then-companion would react to such a change.

2) I made the companion an OC to reflect on the ambiguous nature of which Doctor this is.

3) This will be short, just two chapters and an epilogue.

Thanks for reading!

-Dndchk


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: _Doctor Who_ belongs to the BBC. Abigail belongs to me.

* * *

When the Doctor woke up, it took him a moment to remember what had happened. No, her. That was right. She'd… regenerated, yes, that was it. Like Koschei. The Master. Mistress.

"Whatever," she muttered, sitting up and swinging her legs off the bed. She looked down at her shirt. Reddish-orange blood covered the entire right side. "Well, this won't do at all," she said, and pulled it off. The shirt was tossed to a corner of her room.

The Doctor wandered around her room, pausing to look in the mirror. Yep, definitely ginger. A lovely bright coppery color, it was. Her hair was straight and fell a little past her shoulders, and there was a splash of freckles on her nose. Her eyes were a warm brown, and her face was round and cheerful looking.

"Not bad, I must say," the Doctor said to her reflection. She hooked her fingers inside her mouth and pulled her lips up to examine her teeth. She made a face and almost immediately let go. "Bleh. Crooked. But at least my ears are a normal size." Realizing she actually hadn't checked to see if they were, the Doctor pulled her hair away from her face. "Oh, good, they are." She paused, then scowled at her reflection. Then she gave it the Hairy Eyeball. "Scary faces are going to need work, though. Not a problem, I shouldn't think! Though the nose might be holding me back. Looks like a button, it does. A little button squashed onto my face that's perching there like some ugly bird." She tapped her reflection's nose a bit harder than necessary before turning and leaving the room, muttering about how birds and buttons were ruining her life.

She could smell the delectable scent of coffee wafting from the kitchen. Ooh, coffee. And was that… brandy she smelled as well? Oh. Abigail was probably drinking it with the coffee. Why that girl insisted on ruining perfectly good coffee with brandy, she'd never know.

Coffee. Coffee sounded _very_ good right now.

She made her way to the kitchen, where she found Abigail sitting at the table, her hands cupped around a steaming mug for warmth. Her thick brown hair was pulled into a sloppy bun, and from behind her glasses, her blue eyes were staring unseeingly into her drink.

The Doctor cleared her throat and Abigail looked up. Her eyes went huge, and she turned bright red. "Doctor!" she said, her voice easily half an octave higher than normal. "Why—are you—why are you not wearing a shirt?"

The Doctor looked down at herself. "Oh. OH! Right! I'm not supposed to not wear a shirt anymore, am I?"

Abigail groaned and pulled off her sweatshirt. "Just—just put this on, _please._ " She held it out, keeping her eyes averted.

The Doctor eyed the sweatshirt for a moment before taking it and putting it on. "Very well," she said, sighing heavily. "If you _insist_." She sat at the table and crossed her arms, looking for all the world like a petulant child.

Abigail opened her mouth to say the Doctor had taken her seat before deciding it was better to not say anything at all, and sat opposite the Doctor, dragging her mug across the table to her. "How are you feeling?" she asked hesitantly.

"Oh, better, I suppose," the Doctor said, still looking sullen. "I was having a lovely nap until _somebody_ woke me up." She gave Abigail the as-of-yet-unperfected Hairy Eyeball.

"But…" Abigail gave her a look. "I wasn't making any noise."

"Well, some _thing_ woke me up!" the Doctor said, throwing her hands in the air. "I don't know what, but it did! Maybe it was one of those buttons, I never liked them. Evil little things, buttons, always popping off when you need them. Like companions." She jabbed a finger at Abigail. You're always popping off when I tell you to stay put!"

"Doctor, you're rambling," Abigail said, scooting her chair slightly away. "Are you _sure_ you're feeling better?"

The Doctor _hmm_ ed and looked at the ceiling. "Let's see, it's been… four hours since my regeneration. I'm done cooking after _about_ fifteen, delirium usually ends a _bit_ before that…" She beamed at Abigail. "Only ten more hours to go!"

"...Eleven," Abigail corrected after an awkward pause.

The Doctor frowned. "Damn, this is worse than I thought." She reached across the table and snatched the mug out of Abigail's hands, downing its contents in one.

Abigail just stared at her. "That was my coffee!"

"It tasted horrible!" the Doctor said, slamming the mug down. "I was doing you a favor!"

"You drank my coffee!"

"Yes, I did! Do you have any more?"

Abigail stared some more before getting up and going to the coffeepot. She filled a mug about halfway before she glanced over her shoulder at the Doctor. "D'you want brandy—?"

"No, I don't want brandy!" the Doctor snapped. "I told you, the coffee tasted absolutely foul! Just give me coffee!"

Abigail wrinkled her nose, but did as asked. Ordered. Same difference right now, really, but the Doctor had only eleven hours of this behavior left. She could put up with it until then. She set the mug down on the table and turned to fix herself a cup as well.

The Doctor took a long draft, made a face, and got up. She stumbled over to the sink, coffee sloshing out of the mug, and dumped what remained in the sink before grabbing the brandy bottle out of Abigail's hands. "Give me that," she said. "Don't need coffee, need the brandy."

"Can't I just—?" Abigail gave up and went to the cabinet to get a new bottle while the Doctor retreated to the table, nursing her bottle and glaring around the room. Abigail abandoned the task of fixing herself a new cup as she watched the Doctor go through the entire bottle. "Are you sure you should be drinking right now? And, er," she added, "that's an awful lot you're drinking, too."

"Two livers," the Doctor muttered between gulps. She shook a finger at Abigail. "I could drink you under the table any day, you know! Just watch me!"

"I'll pass," Abigail muttered. Two livers. Well, the Doctor already had two hearts, why should an extra liver be any different? She shook her head and turned her attention back to her coffee.

She heard a chair scrape against the floor and turned, groaning inwardly when she saw the Doctor was trying to leave the kitchen. "Doctor, where are you going?"

The Doctor stopped dead, rocking back on her heels, then spun to face Abigail. "I'm going to get new clothes!" she declared. "And this time, I want something, something, something—" She snapped her fingers. "Something with color this time, that's it!" She spun back around and marched away, moving to pull off her borrowed sweatshirt as she walked.

Abigail ran after her and pulled her arms away. "Can you _please_ stop trying to take off your clothes?" she asked, her voice pained.

"Oh, _fine,_ if it means that much to you," the Doctor huffed.

When they got to the wardrobe room, though, the Doctor promptly began shucking off her clothes. Abigail quickly ducked back outside. "I'll just, er, wait here for you then, shall I?" she called.

The Doctor, who was already busy examining a _very_ loud patchwork coat, didn't answer. "Hmm, that's colorful, all right, but not quite what I'm looking for. Maybe…" She grabbed a hideous orange cardigan and held it up for examination.

After about an hour, the Doctor, feeling satisfied with her clothing at last, stopped in front of a full-length mirror to see the ensemble. A plain white collared shirt under an argyle sweater vest was covered by a nicely fitted leather jacket, though she'd made sure there was enough room to move her arms around. She was also wearing a black, knee-length A-line skirt and black heels, while her legs were clad in neon-blue leggings. She nodded slowly, satisfied. "Yes, this will do nicely."

"Er, Doctor?" Abigail peered into the wardrobe room. She wrinkled her nose. "Are you sure about that?"

"Hm? Oh, do you think the heels are a bit much?" The Doctor lifted one of her legs to inspect her shoe. "Yes, I suppose that might present some problems while running away from hostile aliens, mightn't it? Only one way to find out for sure, though!" She began stamping her feet, at first in place in front of the mirror, then around the wardrobe room. Her every stomp landed with a _thud_ that echoed around the room.

Abigail folded her arms and leaned against the doorway, watching in bemusement as the Doctor stomped her way around the room, until—

 _CRACK._

The Doctor barely stumbled when the heel of one of her shoes snapped off. "Good call! Not these, then!" Without another word, she kicked the shoes off to a corner and padded away in search of something else.

"Mad, you are," Abigail muttered.

"Madman with a box, I am!" the Doctor agreed cheerily, tugging on a pair of pink and orange polka-dotted socks. "At least, I was. I suppose I'm a madwoman now, aren't I? But that just doesn't have the same ring to it. I much prefer 'madman'. Rolls off the tongue nicely." She stuffed her feet into a pair of black combat boots. "What about now?" She held out her arms and turned for her companion's inspection.

"Well—" Abigail hesitated, then shrugged. "If people stare, it's going to be at you. Just a fair warning."

"Let them stare! They stare at me all the time!" the Doctor proclaimed. She looked down and realized her boots were unlaced, and she bent to correct that. "I wear combat boots now. Combat boots are cool—wait, no, that's what my old self said. I'm not him anymore! What am I saying?!"

"Doctor, you've never said that before," Abigail said, giving her a funny look.

"Oh, yes I have, that was just a me you haven't met."

"You mean you've done this before." Abigail dragged her hands down her face. "Of course you have. Don't know why I'm surprised, this isn't the weirdest thing that's happened today."

"Young lady, I am over two thousand years old! Of course I've done this before!" the Doctor snapped, stamping her feet to make sure her boots were on correctly.

"How many times, then?"

"Right, clothing's picked out, all that's left is to wait to be done cooking," the Doctor said, talking over Abigail. While she spoke, her long fingers were working her hair into a fishtail braid. "Anyone up for parcheesi? Hehe, that's a funny name for a funny game. Parcheesi. Parcheesi. Paaarcheeesi. _So_ much more fun to say than Ludo!"

Abigail, not having any idea what to make of this, just nodded and smiled. She checked her phone; ten hours left.

This was going to be a long day.

* * *

A/N: To those of you who write fem!Doctor stories and put her in heels, I beg of you: go outside and pretend you're trying to save the world from aliens.

Bonus points if you don't twist your ankle at the end of the day.


	3. Epilogue

Disclaimer: _Doctor Who_ belongs to the BBC. Abigail belongs to me.

* * *

"So, Doctor, where are we off to now?" Abigail asked, leaning against the rail as she watched the Doctor fiddle with the control panels.

"I dunno!" the Doctor replied, looking up and grinning at her. "Thought maybe we could go to the future this time 'round, since we went to the past yesterday."

"Future sounds fun. With aliens?"

"If you want!" The Doctor ran to the other side of the controls and flipped several switches. "What say you to the Isop Galaxy?"

Abigail came around the rail to stand next to the Doctor, who was watching the monitor with a look of utmost concentration. "Wherever you think is best." She hesitated. "Doctor, do you think this is going to be alright? You're, well…" She hesitated, then gestured at the Doctor. "You're different."

"Different?" The Doctor snorted. "Why should things be any different just because I've regenerated? Nothing's changed: it's you and me bouncing around the universe, through space and time, seeing the sights, saving people, just like always. I'm still the Doctor, and _you_ —" She bumped her shoulder against Abigail's. "—are still my Abigail."

"I suppose so." Abigail looked up at the time rotor, collecting her thoughts.

The Doctor laughed and danced around the console to type in coordinates. "Now, if I'd grown another head, then we'd have cause to panic…"

"That's possible?!" Abigail's eyes went huge.

"Anything's possible, really. Look at us! Making impossibilities happen all day!" The Doctor pulled a lever, and the familiar noise of the TARDIS echoed around the room. "And we're off to do it again! Once more unto the breach, dear friends!"

* * *

A/N: Because why should it matter if the Doctor's a woman or not? It's well-established canon now that it's not unheard of for Time Lords to change sex upon regeneration. It'd be natural to them.

And, well, underneath it all, the Doctor will always be the Doctor, no matter what. Which is why the story ends here; after the initial reaction, there won't be much else that'd be different. She'll keep doing what she always does: travel space and time, and save the universe before running off to do it all over again. She'd just be doing it with a new face.

Thanks for reading!

-Dndchk


End file.
